


Apparently Insanity Grows on You

by Taliya



Series: Insanity, Apparently [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Blood and Injury, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Gun Violence, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 09:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliya/pseuds/Taliya
Summary: A simple late-night walk home from work turns into something much more complicated than anything Wataru had ever anticipated.  Who would have ever expected that death haunted the Magician in the Moonlight’s steps?  Rated for violence and language.





	Apparently Insanity Grows on You

**Author's Note:**

> _Detective Conan_ and _Magic Kaito_ characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.
> 
> \---
> 
> Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence and blood, language

“Please come again!”

The cheery voice drifted after him as he wearily slouched out of the convenience store with a prepackaged bento box in hand. It was late; the luminous full moon hung high in the sky. Finishing up that postmortem report had been hell—he had not enjoyed writing about how that murderer had decided to make “artwork” out of his victim.

Takagi Wataru ruffled his hair before covering a yawn. Only three more blocks to go, and then he would be home. He could even see the towering structure of his apartment building, squares of light creating a random checkerboard of contrasts. The wail of sirens echoed in the distance, and far ahead in the sky a small triangle of white glided by.

_Right,_ he thought with exhaustion nibbling at the edges of his mind, _there was a KID heist tonight._

Wataru focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Two more blocks.

A muffled hiss of pain caught his attention as he passed by an alleyway. The homicide detective paused, peering into the dimly illuminated side street and blinking to ensure that his tired eyes were not playing tricks on him.

“K—KID…?” he murmured, as just beyond the direct reach of the streetlamps, a caped figure in white leaned against a wall. His head was tilted forwards and his shoulders slumped in obvious fatigue. But what caught Wataru’s eye was the fact that something dark had stained the length of the phantom thief’s right sleeve. His gloved left hand grasped his right bicep tightly, the white fabric covering his hand also discolored. There was another splash of darkness on his right thigh that stretched down to mid-calf, and the magician cleared favored that leg.

Before his brain could register exactly what he was doing, Wataru had dropped his dinner on the sidewalk and had hurried to the thief’s side. “KID,” he whispered urgently, gaze raking over the wounds as he pulled out his handkerchief and reached out to wrap the arm. “Wha—”

Kaitou KID reacted to Wataru’s voice with more speed than he thought humans were capable of, the white-clad figure seemingly teleporting and instantly putting two meters’ worth of space between them, that infamous card gun pointed at him. His single uncovered eye glinted from beneath the brim of the top hat as KID analyzed his situation, which was then followed by a stiff smirk. There was a blackened hole in the white fabric of his jacket directly over his heart. “Fancy meeting you here, Takagi-keiji,” he purred as the weapon was lowered to his side.

“Ah… What happened to you?” Wataru asked. His mind flashed back to that time on the roof where he had captured and arrested two would-be assassins on the rooftop with the aid of the aforementioned thief and little Edogawa Conan. Were KID’s injuries the result of a similar scenario?

KID huffed in amusement. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he answered, his voice light and airy—which… was impressive considering there was not even a hint of the pain that the detective _knew_ pulsed with the thief’s every heartbeat in his two bleeding wounds.

Wataru frowned. “If someone is after you—” he began, but paused. KID was a criminal. Wataru was a cop. Technically, he was supposed to apprehend KID for his crimes. But KID was bleeding, and evidently whoever was chasing the magician was out for blood. So he also had a duty to protect KID from being killed. But… KID was a criminal.

_Worry about the circular reasoning later,_ he berated himself, _First, ensure that KID stays _alive_._

“Back with me now?” KID said, an amused grin tilting his lips as he leaned ever so slightly on a brick wall, uninjured leg bearing nearly all of his body weight. “You looked like you were about to sprain something in your brain, you were thinking so hard.”

“I—ah,” Wataru fumbled, wondering if the thief would give him an honest answer if he asked his question. “Whoever injured you—are they the same as the ones on the rooftop?”

KID’s eye narrowed in dark amusement. “Need not to know, tantei-san,” he crooned with an inexplicable warning in his voice that had the detective barely refraining from flinching. “It’s safer for everyone that way.”

Concern welled up within his chest as he argued, “But not for you.”

The thief chuckled, then hummed, “Why, do you think I am a defenseless lamb, tantei-san?”

“No—I—!” Wataru tripped over his words, unable to explain why he felt _embarrassed_ of all things.

KID’s grin widened for a moment before his attention snapped to the far end of the alley, and then Wataru was being roughly shoved against a wall as the cracks of multiple gunshot split the night. The detective’s head smacked against the wall, and he blinked mildly dazed eyes had not realized he had closed to find himself staring the silken waterfall of KID’s cape. The thief had positioned himself defensively between Wataru and the source of the threat.

“I suppose I do have to give you points for sheer dogged persistence, Snake,” the magician remarked idly, and the flash of the card gun spinning on his finger just beyond his shoulder caught Wataru’s attention.

“And you just don’t know how to stay fucking dead,” came a retort filled with such roiling hatred that the homicide detective shuddered.

KID shrugged. “What can I say? Fukurokuju-sama favors me.”

“Do me a favor,” this Snake person growled, “and fucking die this time.”

There was another burst of gunfire along with a minor explosion and the hiss of gas. Then there was silence. Silence, save for the background buzz of distant vehicles on the highway.

It was several long moments before the magician stepped forwards and away from Wataru, his cape slightly billowing behind him as he walked towards the shapes of several men collapsed on the ground. There was a whitish haze clouding the alley, though the light breeze was dispersing it in short order. There was also a visible wobble in the thief’s step as he reached the pile of men and began kicking the scattered handguns away from their outstretched hands.

“KID?” Wataru asked, pushing away from the wall and shaking his head to clear the slight spinning of his brain.

The thief turned, and the policeman’s eyes widened upon seeing additional three blackened spots dotting the man’s chest that had not been there before, in addition to a growing new stain on his left forearm. He grinned weakly once he noticed what Wataru was staring at and said, “Kevlar,” before his eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled next to the men who wanted him dead.

Wataru forcefully himself refrained from having a panic attack right then and there. There were people—_plural—_splayed out at his feet; five of them were… well, if not killers, then users of deadly force.

And then there was Kaitou KID…

Wataru swallowed the urge to whimper. He knew that he needed to call it in, that the five in black needed to be apprehended and taken in for questioning, and that KID should follow suite. But…

_He protected me… and he’s… unconscious, from what I can tell. Do I repay him by arresting him?_

The detective’s morals waged war against itself before finally coming to a decision. Grasping the thief under his arms, Wataru hauled the limp KID to a somewhat hidden nook within the alley. He tried to lie the man down in a position that was as comfortable as possible, yet as concealed from the casual observer as possible. He even shed his own jacket to blanket the magician—both to keep him warm and to blot out the ostentatious whiteness of his outfit after doing what he could to stem the bleeding from his various wounds.

That done, he took a moment to stare down at the thief, swallowed thickly, and marched back to the five remaining men as he dialed his boss. “Ah, Megure-keibu, I need you to send three cars to my location. I have five unconscious men here that attempted to assassinate Kaitou KID—Yes—Yes—No, he got away—Understood, thank you.”

He ended the call and checked the time. Megure had said that he could have men out to his location within seven minutes. He glanced down the alley towards where he had hidden KID. He hoped that his colleagues would be too preoccupied with hauling away the five to spot the sixth unmentioned lawbreaker.

It was an antsy seven minutes for Wataru. When the other men from his unit finally arrived, he was ready to start climbing the walls out of anxiety. It was absolute misery to go through protocol, giving his statement and helping out—all without giving away the fact that he was extremely nervous, or more importantly, exactly _why_ he was so nervous.

Wataru waved off an offer to be driven home, saying that he wanted to walk off his nerves, and shortly thereafter he was left alone. Nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to return to where he had left the thief, he was honestly surprised to find him still there. 

_… now what?_ he thought, blinking down at the unconscious thief.

A quick debate with himself later, and Wataru found himself staggering down that last block to his apartment complex with a lax phantom thief draped on his back. The policeman had stuffed KID into his jacket, balling up the cape so that it was a distorted lump beneath the dark brown fabric.

_Seriously,_ he mentally complained at himself as he smiled, half apologetically and half embarrassedly at the security guard in the lobby, _what the hell am I doing? Also, please don’t notice the blood on his pantleg…_

Wataru made it up to his apartment with little incident, toeing his shoes off before padding into his living room. Easing KID onto his couch and laying him down, he could not help but stare when the top hat rolled off and he was left with a face guarded only by the solitary monocle.

_He looks so… young… _ The thought made something in his chest ache. _He cannot be older than twenty, and yet he already has people after his life?_

Sighing, he picked the top hat up from where it had fallen to the ground and gently placed it back on the thief’s head, angling it so that it partially covered a face that looked… remarkably like…

_Kudou-kun…?_

He roughly shook his head. Worry about KID’s identity later. He needed to first deal with the bleeding. With that directive in mind, he slipped the white leather loafers off his feet and blinked at the cobalt blue socks. _Uh-huh… right._

He placed KID’s shoes in the genkan before darting into his bathroom for his medical kit. “Ah…” he mumbled, staring at the three obvious wound locations. KID would need to be bandaged in those areas—that was a given. It was the four spots on his chest that worried him. While the magician had mentioned Kevlar, Wataru still had to look beneath the flak jacket to check for bruising and possible broken ribs.

Gently shaking the thief’s shoulder, he murmured, “KID-san, KID-san. Please wake up.”

“Takagi-keiji…?” he mumbled after several moments.

“KID-san, I need you to take your Kevlar jacket off to check for injuries. That and—ah, I don’t accidently want to gas myself out.”

KID chuckled tiredly as he reached up to grasp the brim of his top hat, his somewhat uncoordinated arm movements likely due to his injuries and his exhaustion. Hat secured, he struggled to sit up, and Wataru quickly helped to stabilize him. “A very good call, since you probably _would_ have set something off.” He gingerly shed Wataru’s jacket first, then his own with the detective’s help. Removing the red tie and the blue shirt revealed a worn Kevlar vest with four shiny smudges of silver and brass. The policeman then helped the thief take the flak jacket off.

Wataru hissed upon seeing the beginnings of massive bruises in the areas he had been hit. “I hope those didn’t break any bones,” he muttered, worried. There was nothing he could do with broken rib bones—that was beyond his ability as an emergency field medic. A glance at the wounds on both of his arms revealed that the bullets had either winged him or had gone clean through. A rolled up pantleg and check on his leg revealed a wing wound as well. Those he could clean and bandage, and so he did.

“I don’t think I can do anything about your ribs,” Wataru murmured apologetically, and when he received no answer he glanced up to find KID out like a light, though even in sleep his face was tensed with pain. _He needs painkillers._

He grabbed a bottle of acetaminophen and filled a glass of water before returning to his occupied couch. Gently nudging the injured man, he woke KID up long enough to take two caplets and down half of the glass before his exhaustion dragged him under once more.

While Wataru was reasonably positive it would not happen, there was still the danger of KID rolling off the couch. Shuffling into his room, he pulled out the spare futon he kept in case he had an overnight visitor and set it on the floor of his living room. A comforter soon followed, along with spare sheets and a pillow. He unrolled the futon and spread a clean sheet over it. Then he lined the underside of the comforter with another sheet and slid the pillow into a pillowcase. Satisfied with his work, he reluctantly half-woke the magician to get him off the couch and onto the futon before tucking him in.

KID was so young. That fact had caught Wataru so off guard. Coupled with his apparent history with those men, it was apparent that the thief was waging some sort of hidden, unspoken war against them—and was using his publicized heists as a means of forcing confrontations. Wataru itched to learned who KID was and why it was so important to do such a thing, but…

Somehow, it just did not sit well with him to learn of his identity when he was unable to have a say. The policeman snorted at himself for his ridiculousness, but that feeling would not be swayed. Which then begged the question of why he felt that way in the first place.

An angry gurgle startled the detective from his musings regarding his unanticipated guest, and he stretched his back, hearing the joints pop satisfyingly. Yawning, Wataru entered his kitchen and began rooting around the meagre contents of his refrigerator with the hope of making something quick and easy for dinner. Procuring some leftover curry and rice from last night—he had originally wanted a little variety and thus, the bento from the convenience store—he dished out a plate and set it in the microwave to heat it up. 

As he watched the plate spin lazily within the appliance, he pondered the man in his living room and the implications of housing him.

Why _did_ he not want to know KID’s identity?

The detective could write a list of reasons why he should want to unmask the phantom thief, with that list comprised primarily of the multitude of crimes the man had committed. But as for why he did not? It was not anything Wataru could point to, pinpoint with any accuracy; it was merely a feeling, a gut instinct. It told him that KID was a sitting duck for those black-clad men if he was ever apprehended. Those men had intended—had _wanted_—to kill KID, and as a policeman, Wataru was bound by the law to protect people from being killed to the fullest extent of his ability. That KID had also shielded him from harm furthered his rationalizing not to expose him.

_This is the reason I don’t do cases with live people,_ he complained with a touch of dark sarcasm, _the person in question has already passed and all that I have to deal with are hard, cold facts to catch the culprit. The joys of leaning more on the introvert side of that particular personality spectrum._

The microwave beeped, and Wataru plucked a potholder from a drawer to grab the hot plate. Procuring a set of utensils, he set everything down on the dining table before returning to procure a glass of water and a pair of chopsticks. He set the glass on the table and sat down to eat his meal with a quiet, “I gratefully receive.”

He ate quickly, since he could feel a bone-deep weariness nipping at his heels and he wanted to shower before he went to sleep. He placed his dishes in the sink to wash in the morning and made quick work of cleaning himself and forgoing a soak in the furo. With a last glance at the soundly sleeping KID, Wataru turned the lights off and dragged his tired body to bed. He was asleep before his head crashed into his pillow.

\---

The annoyingly happy ringtone he used as an alarm pulled Wataru out of disjointed dreams of KID and black-clad men and gas masks. He yawned and stretched slumping out of his room into the bathroom down the hall while operating on muscle memory and the weak sunlight that crept through the curtains. He blinked and immediately mentally woke up upon seeing a figure curled up under a blanket on a futon in his living room, monocle glinting from its position next to the pillow and white top hat on its side half a meter away from its owner. The memories of last night rushed back into his head, and Wataru had to grab the wall as his knees buckled.

KID was here.

Takagi Wataru was housing a wanted _international felon_.

The detective scrunched his eyes shut as he thought, _What the _hell_ had I been thinking last night?! _Splashes of blood, deformed pellets of silver, and burnt white fabric crossed his mind, and he sighed. _Yeah, that’s why…_

Taking another look at the peaceful thief, Wataru relieved himself first, as his bladder had been loudly protesting the moment he had woken up. That was followed by brushing his teeth, washing his face, shaving, and combing his hair. He padded quietly back to his room to change into something comfortable—and luckily for him, today was his day off. Too bad he had forgotten to turn his alarm off.

Sighing, he stepped into the kitchen to begin making breakfast. Rice was measured and set to cook in the rice cooker, and a pot of broth was brought to a boil with miso paste and tofu added to it. Eggs were cracked and scrambled, water was boiled, green onions were chopped, and with the ease of practiced routine Wataru soon had a light breakfast of rice, miso soup, tamagoyaki, and matcha.

He had just settled himself at the table when the sound of cloth shuffling and a muffled hiss caught his attention, and he watched as Kaitou KID slowly woke up. The thief moved carefully for a moment, the pain having fully woken him up upon moving as he realized that he was not in a place that was familiar to him. Wataru watched as the magician scanned his surroundings, freezing when he found the detective staring frankly back at him.

“Ah, good morning,” he said with more than a touch of awkwardness.

KID’s eyes widened in horror upon realizing that his face was completely bare. His head snapped down in a frantic search for his monocle, and he snatched it up and replaced it on his nose. A hand shot out to grab his hat—or would have grabbed it, having frozen in the act from the flare of pain his injuries had no doubt caused.

Wataru winced in sympathy as KID finally dragged the had over and used it to shield his face from him. “You know,” he began uncertainly as his eyes dropped to the table’s woodgrain surface, “I don’t plan on finding out who you are.” The air was tense enough that it made the detective want to squirm in discomfort. “I—I know what you look like, but I don’t plan on doing anything with that knowledge,” he softly confessed.

The hat slowly rolled just enough to expose a riotous head of espresso hair and a pair of partly covered eyes. KID did not say anything; he simply observed.

He sighed, making a decision to let the matter rest. “If you would like to freshen up in the bathroom, you are more than welcome to it,” he offered both as the cordial host he strived to always be, and as a means of letting KID know he was dropping the subject. “I can provide a change of clothes if you wish.”

KID blinked at him before the hat slid away to reveal a nose. “I would like that,” he said softly.

Wataru nodded and stood, making his way to the magician. “Do you need help getting up?”

The thief slowly levered himself upright in reply, the comforter falling away to reveal a torso that was surprisingly toned and mottled various colors from the bullet impacts. The policeman gently hooked a hand under KID’s elbow to slowly bring him up on his feet. “Thank you, Takagi-keiji.”

“Not at all,” Wataru answered. The detective released KID once he was sure the other man was able to stand on his own. “Would you like that spare set of clothing?”

KID glanced down at his bloodstained trousers and said wryly, “Please.”

The policeman nodded and said, “I’ll leave a towel, spare clothing, and a toothbrush on the washing machine. Feel free to use the soap and shampoo—or would you like a new bar instead?”

The thief dragged himself towards the bathroom and answered, “Whatever you have in there will be fine with me,” and then gently closed the bathroom door behind him.

Wataru dug a towel out of his closet, followed by a loose cotton tee shirt, a spare pair of pajama pants, and—after much deliberation—a clean set of boxers. He set everything on the corner of the washing machine right next to the bathroom and placed a still-packaged toothbrush on the pile after some digging in one of his storage cabinets.

The policeman had already begun eating after setting out a second meal when a door opened and KID emerged from the bathroom, monocle and hat in place and towel draped around his neck. The visible bandages on his arms had somehow, miraculously, remained dry. It was downright _weird_ seeing KID out of his usual white and blue and instead wearing a faded back B’z concert shirt with dark green plaid cotton pants. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

Giving himself a mental shake to keep from staring, he said, “Please eat if you are hungry,” and gesturing to the still steaming arrangement that he had set down on the table.

KID smiled tiredly and padded over on silent feet. “Thank you. I gratefully receive.”

The pair of them ate in a heavy silence with only the frequent clink of bamboo on porcelain, and Wataru was somewhat at a loss as to how to break the oppressive quiet. The feel of KID’s eyes on his back set his metaphorical hackles on edge. “You’re a very strange detective, to not want to know who I am,” KID stated blandly, breaking the tension. Wataru nearly jumped at the shattered stillness.

His eyes darted away from his tunnel-vision focus on his food to observe his unexpected guest. “I will confess to some curiosity,” he admitted once his heartrate had slowed to something a bit more normal, though he failed to meet the thief’s gaze. “Although I am sure I am not the only one.”

“So why provide me sanctuary?” was the soft question he received.

“I’m not really sure why myself,” the detective said after some internal debating as he stared hard at his empty bowl of miso soup. “While I know I should arrest you and turn you in—” and out of the corner of his eye he saw the way KID flinched ever-so-slightly, “—but you protected me last night from what would have been at least one fatal injury, and something tells me that locking you up is an absolutely _terrible_ idea.”

KID snorted softly. “They would do everything they can to kill me while I’m… ‘trapped’ in a cell if they so much as heard a sniff of me being captured.” There was no wavering possibility in his voice, only a weary sort of resigned confidence that tugged at Wataru’s heartstrings.

“Why do they want to kill you so badly?” The question had rolled off his tongue before even realized he had spoken.

The thief gave him a sad sort of grin that had Wataru pausing mid-chew because he was not quite sure how to interpret it and replied, “It’s better if you don’t know, otherwise they’ll target you too.”

The policeman swallowed thickly as a mix of sadness, anger, and outrage unfurled in his gut. Phantom thief or no, _no one_ deserved to be hunted down like an animal. But he tamped down on his emotions, keeping them contained until a thought suddenly occurred to him. Snapping his gaze at the magician with growing suspicion on his face, he whispered, “Is _that_ the reason you do what you do? To keep their focus on you so that they don’t go after anyone else?”

KID glancing away—and his silence—spoke volumes.

_“Why?”_ he breathed, horrified. “Surely whatever it is you are after isn’t worth the cost of your life?”

The thief turned that enigmatically forlorn smile on him once more and only said, “Need not to know, Takagi-keiji. Please do not pry any further.”

Wataru bit his lip as he returned his gaze to his food. He pushed a few grains of rice around in the ricebowl, suddenly no longer hungry. Still, he forced himself to take a few more bites before his stomach rebelled. He swept his dishes into the sink before beginning to wash the morning’s bowls as well as last night’s plate. His mind was very much on a distant galaxy, carefully tiptoeing around all the questions he wanted to ask KID.

The thief ghosted his way to Wataru’s side to deposit his dishes on the counter next to the sink, and quietly offered to help clean. The detective rebuffed the gesture, and instead asked KID to rest so as not to cause further damage to his injuries. Wataru finished up the dishes and placed the last of it on a drying rack, wiping his hands off with a hand towel.

KID had already neatly folded up the sheets and blanket, and was wrestling with the futon. Wataru yelped and hurried to fold the bedding away without the thief’s help. Once the task was done, the policeman sat leaned against the couch with a sigh.

“Thank you, Takagi-keiji,” the phantom thief murmured, and Wataru tilted his head to find the magician staring back. There was a gentle, cautious smile that curled his lips; a surprised sincerity shone in his eyes. “I never expected treatment that came anywhere near to what you have done for me. So, thank you.” He forcefully knelt, putting weight on his injured calf, a flash of pain tightening his expression before bowing deeply as Wataru squawked in dismay.

“Don’t injure yourself more!” the detective quietly wailed as he flailed his arms in mild panic. In response, KID eased his weight off his lower legs, a near-silent sigh of relief escaping him. There was another long moment of silence before Wataru said, “So is there anyone you need to call?”

KID sighed. “Yes, there is one person I would like to call. I do not, however, keep a mobile on me when I’m ‘on the job’, so to speak.”

Wataru blinked. “Oh. Well, would you like to use my phone?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” the thief answered with a grateful smile. The homicide detective groaned as he forced himself up, ducking in to his bedroom and returning to hand his cell phone to the waiting magician. “Thank you,” KID murmured as he accepted the device.

As the thief made his phone call in quiet tones, Wataru sat down at the table with a pad of paper and a pen to plan out what chores and errands he needed to do. It was a Saturday, which meant that there would be a larger crowd out and about wherever he went. Grocery shopping was the first task on the list, with sub bullets for the individual items he needed to purchase.

He was mentally inventorying his freezer when the thief slid into the char next to him and placed his phone beside the pad of paper. “All done,” he said, and Wataru glanced up from the list and promptly choked.

KID sat before him with nothing hiding his features, and Wataru could not help but take note of the bright, mischievous indigo eyes, the cut of his cheekbones and the angles of his jaw; the untamed hair, the slope of his nose, and the quirk of his lips. The phantom thief grinned at him fearlessly as he waited for Wataru to compose himself.

The detective sucked in a breath, followed by another, then stared incredulously at the other man before immediately averting his gaze. “A-Ah…” he stuttered, caught completely wrongfooted. “Are you sure that is a good idea?”

“You said you would not pry,” was the calm rejoinder, “and I trust you.”

Wataru bravely resisted the urge to whimper. “But I’m a police officer!”

There was amusement in the thief’s voice. “And I know you don’t just take everything at face value.” Wataru frowned in mild confusion and chanced a peek at the magician. Those sharp eyes watched him with a gentle fondness that he was not quite sure he deserved nor comprehended. “The few times I’ve both worked with you and against you—you’ve proven that there is more to you than simple regurgitation of the law. I’ve watched you bend and yield to unconventional wisdom when the situation required it; I’ve seen your capacity for compassion in the circumstances that would infuriate lesser men. You know when you need to stick to the letter of the law, and when you instead uphold the spirit of it—and _that_ is why I admire you, Takagi-keiji, and I trust you to hold true to your word.”

KID reached out and gently pressed Wataru’s chin upwards, and the policeman startled at hearing and feeling his teeth quietly clack together. This was surreal. The detective expected to wake up soon, expected a wall to drop and reveal a camera crew—_something_—besides this wholly unanticipated proclamation of his good moral character by none other than _the_ notorious Kaitou KID.

The magician tilted his head to regard him with a smile, then got up to retrieve his folded clothing and Kevlar vest. “My ride will be here shortly, so I’ll see myself out.” The detective turned in time to see KID bow in respect and gratitude before straightening. “Thank you once again for everything, Takagi-keiji. Have a good day.” And so saying, KID walked to the genkan, slid his shoes on, and exited Wataru’s apartment with a solid _snick_ of the lock.

The detective remained frozen in his chair, blinking and simply processing the past hour. “I—whatever,” he mumbled, and returned his attention to his list of tasks. KID was an agent of chaos, and Wataru decided that chaos was not something he needed in his life.

And so, he pushed the memory of KID in his home out of his direct attention and scrambled to get his day—and life—back on track.

\---

Wataru stared at the small bundle wrapped in brown paper and twine sitting innocently on his desk. With some hesitance he approached it, warily glancing around to see if this was the work of one of his colleagues. It was early enough in the morning that most of his coworkers had not yet arrived, and so he had a few moments of relative privacy.

He slid into his chair, set his bag at the food of his desk and his cup of mediocre coffee on the desk’s surface, and carefully untying the twine and tearing the paper. A faded black B’z concert shirt and dark green plaid pants greeted him, both folded neatly, and he huffed in incredulity.

It had been a little over a week since that Friday evening he had harbored one injured Kaitou KID in his home. The incident, upon recollection afterwards, had felt like something from an extremely lucid dream—but here was physical proof that it had been real. Wataru tucked the clothes into his bag; he had no desire to get asked questions he would not be able to answer. Evidence hidden, he continued to work throughout the day just like he had every other workday before.

Upon reaching home, he slid out of his shoes and collapsed onto his couch, his messenger bag dropping to the floor with a muffled _thump_. Eying the bag, he reached out to retrieve it and pulled his now rumpled clothes from the bottom, where it had been squashed beneath his laptop and a few folders of cases he was currently working on.

The clothes were clean and smelled of detergent. They were also folded in a funny sort of way. Wataru slid the clothes onto the cushion next to him, frowning when a corner or white appeared between the folds of black and green. A small tug revealed a card with a short message that pulled a tired, somewhat exasperated smile to his lips, and he shook his head in amazement.

_Takagi-keiji,_

_Thank you for your hospitality and kindness._  
_I was beyond impressed by your willingness_  
_ to help me, and for that I am in your debt._  
_ Please let me know if you ever need my_  
_ assistance; I will be more than happy to_  
_ provide; you may reach me via the_  
_ enclosed encrypted number._

_-Kaitou KID_

Wataru sighed and made a note to stow the note somewhere secure. He had no desire to bring Division Two down upon his head. A thought crossed his mind and he grinned impishly.

_Let me know when your next heist is, KID, and I’ll call us even._

_… I must be insane._

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: So I had a sudden urge to throw Kaito and Takagi together, and this was the result. I know I’m always damaging Kaito in one form or another, but—it’s for a good cause, right? And fics like these totally give me WAFF when I write them. Fukurokuju is one of the Seven Lucky Gods, and is the god of wisdom, luck, longevity, wealth, and happiness. He is also the only god said to be able to resurrect the dead—ironic, no? Tamagoyaki is a type of omelet that is made by rolling up cooked egg into a rounded rectangular shape and cut into slices. “I gratefully receive,” is a close literal translation of “Itadakimasu,” which is spoken before partaking in a meal. Japanese homes are typically arranged so that the washing machine is right next to the bathroom, and the water to wash clothing with detergent is drained with a hose from the furo. Clean water is used to rinse the clothing and thus maximizing water economy. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> \---
> 
> Completed: 05.09.2019


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